


Poison Apple

by slightly_murderous_sorcerer (emerald_witch_esmeralda)



Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hate Sex, Secret Relationship, except without the friends part, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emerald_witch_esmeralda/pseuds/slightly_murderous_sorcerer
Summary: There was a reason that Adam and Eve were warned not to touch the forbidden fruit...Integra and Maxwell find out precisely why.
Relationships: Integra Hellsing/Enrico Maxwell
Kudos: 4





	Poison Apple

**Author's Note:**

> That whole quote about the raiment came from Elizabeth R, one of my fave period dramas...  
> I love this ship, I’m addicted and I’m probably going to turn this into a series. I actually have a third fanfic in the works about my favorite vampire slayers.

Meetings were supposed to be routine, boring, harmless affairs. They were negotiations, each side stated what they wanted and then a satisfactory agreement would be worked out for all parties. They were always tense, but never like this.  
But one supposed that when the meeting occurred between two such opposing enemies, ones with so much history and a literal ocean of blood between them, more tension was to be expected. Iscariot black and Hellsing red flooded the once-empty conference room, appearing for all the world like giant checkers on a board. Except these checkers were very much alive...and on edge. The only saving grace was that everyone had to leave their weapons at the door before they entered, or else the poor janitors may very well have had their work cut out for them.

  
“Damn. You can cut the tension in this bloody room with a knife.” Standing some feet apart from the main crowd, Sir Integra Hellsing whistled lowly and took a drag off her cigar. The only reason they were even gathered here in the first place was to fight an even greater threat, the Iscariots couldn’t be trusted...they’d shown that time and time again but really. Would anyone with half a functioning brain cell trust someone who willingly named themselves after one of the biggest traitors in history? One who’d betrayed Jesus Christ, no less? No, she thinks they wouldn’t. It’s like this lot wants people to look at them and go “danger”. 

  
“I hope you didn’t start without me.” A familiar Italian lilt accompanied by the echoing of heavy footsteps cut through the terse silence, and Integra’s thoughts. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Enrico Maxwell made his way through the door and his little marionettes bowed in his general direction.  
The head of the Iscariot Organization, number one Catholic nutjob and professional pain in Integra’s backside. Cunning, ruthless, bloodthirsty psychotic Maxwell...a beautiful, unhinged monster. Truly, the only thing separating him from Alucard was that he didn’t feed on human blood. Or did he? Really, nobody would be surprised if he did.  


  
_“You shall know your enemy by his fair words and smiling countenance. For Satan cometh in beauteous raiment, and bearing precious gifts.”_ The words from Integra’s childish Sunday school lessons echoed in her head as those piercing violet eyes met hers, a wide grin slowly unfolding on his face. “Ah! the lovely Signora Integra has graced us with her presence!” He walked toward her, arms open, but they all knew it was a lie.  


  
“Bishop.” She inclined her head as a show of politeness, the smile on her face as tight as a pair of Seras’ shorts. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”  


  
“We would never dream of starting without you, Bishop Maxwell.” That sounded like that little black-haired nun...Yumiko, was it? She was just as mad and zealous as her boss, if not more. Maxwell moved over to stand near Integra, who glanced over at him.  


  
“There are a billion other places to stand and sit, and you want to be in my space bubble.”  
“It’s been a terribly long time since I’ve seen you last, have you ever considered that I’ve missed you?”  


  
“Aww, that’s so sweet. I’ve missed you too. Like I’d miss a decaying tooth, or cancer, or my uncle.”  
“You wound me, that really hurt my feelings.” Maxwell’s put-upon expression was almost comical.  


  
“You don’t _have_ any feelings.”  
“True.” Integra suddenly did something she rarely ever did, even as a child...she flinched.  


  
“What the fuck?! Your fingers are ice cold, stop that!” Maxwell hummed and continued dancing his fingers along the back of her neck.  


  
“I’ve missed this skin. Been a long time since I’ve gotten the chance to touch it. Has anyone caught on?”  


  
“No, because I actually have a brain in my head. What about on your end?”  


  
“Nobody suspects a thing, il mia colomba. If they did, we’d be in a very different situation now wouldn’t we?” Finally, his hand left its current position to discreetly tie in the ends of her hair. “Che bella.”  
_I hate it when he’s right._ If word got out that the leaders of the two most opposed vampire hunting organizations in Europe, sworn enemies no less, had been fooling around behind everyone’s backs for _months._...let’s just say that it’s best to keep that skeleton buried.  


  
* * * * * 

  
“Did my men get you home safely? Anderson was always too chivalrous for his own good.” Integra smirked when she heard the obvious irritation in his voice. “That’s right, I made your elite paladins carry my purse like little obedient puppies. Mad yet?”  
“Not at all.”  
“Liar. Anyway, you should really hire better staff. I had to ask that girl three times to light my cigar, she was very rude.”  
Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly when that hand in her hair tugged. She jerked her head away, leaving pale gold strands in his gloved fist. “I believe I’ll be keeping these.”  


  
“Do whatever you want with them, I don’t care.” Their little sniping match was interrupted by Heinkel clearing her throat, that same “girl” they were just discussing.  
“Bishop...forgive me. But the debriefer from the Vatican has not yet arrived. Until we have his information, we can’t begin the conference.”  


  
“What?!” Maxwell’s grip tightened on the wine glass in his hand. “He’s not here?! He knew that he was needed today!”  
“I’ll never understand what it is with you Iscariots and not being able to be on time to anything, is this some odd Italian custom that I don’t know about?” Integra mused. Maxwell and Wolfe glared at her, but said nothing. “How long do you think he’ll be?”  
“About an hour, he said.” It was _so_ satisfying watching one of the team who captured her have to bite her tongue and speak through gritted teeth. Integra has half a mind to take a picture, make this moment last. She looked around to her men, going over to whisper instructions to Walter before facing the crowd. “Since the meeting has been delayed due to the Vatican’s mysterious lack of talent for punctuality, I’m going to go have a smoke.” _Alone._ she thought at Alucard, slipping through the hallway entrance that _wasn’t_ occupied by a shit ton of people. “Walter, come and fetch me when the debriefer has arrived. Or call me, it’d probably be quicker.”  
“Yes, Sir Integra.”  
“Also, do try not to murder each other while I’m gone, alright?” With that, she disappeared.  


  
Her steps were slow and measured, pretending she wasn’t listening for the second set of footsteps that would be somewhere in front of her. Maxwell would’ve taken the opposite direction, he was a few eggs short of a dozen but he wasn’t stupid. His reputation was on the line just as much as hers was. _Damn, this is why I never liked hotels. Every damn bloody room looks the same, too easy to get lost. My number should be coming up though._. She stopped as soon as she heard footsteps getting closer, a familiar face coming into view. As soon as he was close enough to grab, Maxwell found himself slammed roughly against the nearby wall with deceptively delicate hands bunched in his coat. Taken aback, he blinked before his face twisted into that half-crazed grin that seemed to be perma-glued to him these days.  
“Someone’s eager.”  


  
“Don’t you ever stop prattling?” With that, she closed the gap between them, cutting off his foul, hateful mouth. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him, hand snaking its way under her blazer jacket. “How long do we have?”  


  
“An hour, they said...look Maxwell. I don’t think it’d be good for the whole secret thing if we did it right here in the hallway.”  
  
“Nonsense, my room is behind us. If you release me so that I may unlock it.” She did so, taking off her glasses and folding them up in her pocket.  
  
“I never thought I’d be so grateful for Catholicism’s horrible timing. Punctuality is not your strong point, you people would probably be late to your own funerals.”  
“Actually...” Maxwell’s voice took on a singsong quality as he slid the pass key in the door. “The debriefer is late because of me. I gave him the wrong set of directions.”  
Integra’s eyes widened. “Why in the world would you do something like that?! You’re holding up the entire meeting!”  
“I wanted to have you to myself for a while...I wouldn’t have gotten that chance if the meeting had started and ended right away.” he whispered, opening the door and pulling her inside with him. Now that they had some privacy, she slammed him against the wall again. “You’re a big boy, I trust you know how to undress yourself?”  
“I can.” Instead of reaching for his own coat or trousers, he instead undid one of the buttons on that crisp white shirt of hers. “But it’s much more fun to undress each other, no?”  


  
* * * * * 

  
A whispered “fuck” was all the noise Integra made when she rolled off of her...frenemy? Enemy with benefits? Whatever this thing they had going on was supposed to be, and collapsed beside him. He’d held on to her hips to try to make her stay but she merely rolled her eyes and smiled at him. An actual smile, not a smirk or a half-smile. Maxwell swore under his breath, a string of nigh-unintelligible Italian as he ran a hand down his face. She huffed and leaned over the side of the bed, fishing around in her pocket for her cigars. “Why do you smoke those things? It’s a filthy habit.”  
“You’re a filthy habit.”  
“Sí, you’ve got me there.”  


  
He grinned at her, and she sighed into her pillow, turning over to meet his eyes.  
“When did this whole thing start, Maxwell? This whole...whatever the hell this is between us.”  
“If I remember correctly, this whole thing started in a public bathroom? And I vowed never to drink again?”  
“Yeah, now I remember. How’s that going for you? I’ll stop smoking cigars if you stop drinking wine.”  
“No.”  
“Then no.”  


  
“So, how long do you think we’ll be able to keep this up?”  
“I don’t know...and quite honestly, I don’t care. I suppose we’ll keep it up until it comes to an end.”  
“But why? Can’t we just forget it and go back to being the crazed Catholic dog and the Protestant cunt you hate because she keeps foiling your plans at every turn?”  


  
“We could, but I don’t want it to...because I enjoy fucking you. And I believe you enjoy it too. Has it affected anything?”  


  
“No, I still want to feed you to Alucard. But I may or may not ride the shit out of you first.  
“And I still want to burn you at the stake. See, nothing has changed. But there are so few pleasures in the type of life life we lead, we can allow ourselves this one.”  
“Perhaps. How much time do we have left before your man gets here?”  
“I say about thirty more minutes.”  
“Well then, that’s plenty of time.” She leaned over him, ends of her blonde hair tickling his face. “How about a round two?”  
“You’ve made me an offer I can’t refuse, what can I say?”  



End file.
